


A New Term

by vintage1983



Series: Educating Miss Granger [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Consenting Adults, F/M, Oral Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-28 21:48:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20432972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vintage1983/pseuds/vintage1983
Summary: Hermione, now left school is spending a term at Hogwarts gaining work experience. Her former potions master is reluctantly tasked with supervising her for a term. On the second day of term it all goes horribly wrong, an unruly class and a mistake mixing a potion lead to an unexpected understanding between Hermione and Severus.





	A New Term

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
Another saucy SSHG one shot to keep you entertained. As the first day of a new school term looms over me (as staff not a pupil before you panic wildly) I thought I would write something to make me smile about the idea. I hope it puts a smile on your faces too!  
Vin x

“Ah, Professor Snape, just the wizard I was looking for.”

Snape was stony faced. “Yes, Headmistress, what can I do for you.”

Whatever it was, her jovial tone told him it was something he wouldn’t be keen on.

“As you know, Miss Granger is joining the school for a term,” Minerva McGonagall pursed her lips into a forced smile.

“Yes, I am aware of this arrangement.”

He remained deadpan.

“I am intending to assign her to you, as an apprentice in your classroom, under your watchful eye and tutelage of course.”

She braced herself; Snape rolled his eyes.

“Now, Severus, you can’t deny she excelled at potions, she may be useful to you.”

He grimaced.

“The Granger girl excelled at everything, divination for example. I am certain Sybil Trelawny would benefit from having someone _competent_ in the room.

Professor McGonagall sighed. She couldn’t dispute his logic. He’d taken the news better than she had dared to expect.

“She is very gifted and bright; she may prove indispensable. It will…well… free you up to do other things.”

“Other things?” he raised an eyebrow, incredulous.

“Yes,” she glossed over his lack of interests outside of work. Snape was not one to dedicate endless amounts of time to the pastoral care of those in his house either. The very idea of cosy ‘chats’ and homesick first years horrified him.

Displeased as he was, he knew was futile to argue with her. “As you wish, Headmistress, I will endure it…if I must.”

“You must.”

He turned to leave.

“And, Severus… be kind.”

His eyes rolled again. Supervising the enthusiastic and know-it-all Hermione Granger was not what he had in mind for the new term. Unlike many of the other staff, he felt no disappointment at the end of the summer. Though his students were a constant source of irritation, teaching kept him busy and gave him purpose. He had no relatives to visit, no grand tours to go on and no desire to ‘relax’.

The school year began in the Hogwarts tradition, returning students greeting each other with hugs and chatter, new wide-eyed eleven-year olds were sorted by the hat. Snape eyed his new cohort of Slytherin coolly. He also eyed his new apprentice with the same curious disdain. Professor McGonagall had reassured Hermione, claiming Professor Snape was delighted to have her working alongside him. Hermione struggled to imagine Severus Snape expressing delight at anything. It wasn’t what she had hoped for. Keen to work in Defence Against the Dark Arts, Professor McGonagall had suggested that given the chequered history of staff in the role, the new teacher should be given at least a term to settle in. Instead it was potions. It was Snape. She wasn’t looking forward to it. He hadn’t softened one bit. Snape seemed just as sour and disgruntled as ever. There would be no joy at all. Still, after completing her education, she had returned to Hogwarts to gain some work experience and her old Head of House had welcomed her back with open arms.

The first day of term arrived. Eager to make a good impression, Hermione arrived at the Potions room early. Snape was already there, setting up cauldrons for the first class of the day. He barely looked up at her.

“Good morning, Miss Granger.”

“Good morning, Professor Snape. I wanted to say thank you for having me in your classes. I’m sure I will learn a lot.”

“Be under no illusion, it is not my wish, nor do I imagine it was your first choice of post either. However, since you are here and there is nothing to be done about it we may as well both make the most of it.”

Hermione shuffled uncomfortably, she had to concede he was right.

“Err…well I did ask about Defence Against the Dark Arts, but…”

Snape scowled and she regretted sharing that.

“Well, at least that is a situation we can both relate to.”

It was nine o’clock and suddenly third year students were piling into the classroom. Hermione felt out of place, no longer a student, not a teacher, she occupied an unknown space and role. She sighed, imagining herself, Harry and Ron at the same age. They had gone their separate ways now. It seemed like a lifetime ago. Her eyes were drawn to the desk she used to sit in.

“Sit. Settle,” Snape boomed.

She almost sat at the desk, then quickly corrected herself. She was no longer a girl, but a young woman. Straightening her skirt and tugging at her sweater, she tried to look serious and professional.

“What would you like me to do?” she asked chirpily, she may as well try and at least pretend to be enthusiastic.

“Stand at the back and _observe_.”

“Would it be helpful if I…”

“_Silently_, Miss Granger. Observation is an activity which engages your eyes, as opposed to your mouth.”

“I’m more than capable of…”

This time his eyes bored into her. Hermione felt herself regressing to a schoolgirl and she fought the urge to pout and stamp her foot but relented and went to the far corner of the room. Reasoning with him was a fruitless exercise; she had learnt that nine years ago.

The day dragged. She watched him teach. Snape’s classes silently paid attention to his explanations and brewed potions studiously, or at least passively complied. There was something fascinating about the way he quietly maintained order. Snape effortlessly instilled respect and a hint of fear in his students. Students were deterred from misbehaving merely with a withering look, He had an undeniable presence; Hermione remembered she noticed that when she was younger. There had always been something magnetic and attractive about it. It was neither the time nor the place to allow her imagination to wander to places she had briefly allowed it to as a teenager. There was no room for harbouring schoolgirl crushes. Some things hadn’t changed at all. Slytherin students made overtures to their House Master, Gryffindor huffed at them. Old rivalries remained intact.

The day drew to a close. It had been long and dull. The last class was dismissed. It was a blessed relief. Having done nothing all day, she made herself busy, tidying up the cauldrons and returning ingredients to the store. Snape said nothing and barely acknowledged her. If it remained like this for a term, it would be intolerable. Infuriated he had neither taught her anything nor trusted her to carry out the simplest of tasks she decided to force him to make conversation.

“Your classes are very quiet.”

“Hmmm,” he replied, not even looking up from his pile of marking.

“I’m sure you don’t need to be so hard on them, they hang on your every word.”

Snape glanced up.

“How typical of you, Miss Granger, seeing fit to question my teaching methods after all of one day in a classroom. It seems you barely require my guidance at all. You imagine yourself to be quite the expert already.”

“I’m not,” she said indignant. Must he always be so critical. “I’m just saying…”

“Well restrain yourself. It is not necessary to say everything that enters your head.”

There was a silence. The quill swished as he marked work. Hermione tried to focus on her task. Potion bottles clanked. Snape tutted and she quieted them, sliding each into the shelf carefully.

“_Perhaps_…” he said drawling the word out, “you would like to try for yourself. A young woman over your overwhelming talents should take to it without my guidance.”

Taken by surprise, the bottles clanged again. The undisguised sarcastic tone wasn’t wasted on her. Arrogance, wounded pride and ego rose up within her. Hermione couldn’t resist a challenge and certainly couldn’t stand to be underestimated. Snape was adept at goading her and exploiting her weaknesses, she knew it and still took the bait.

“Fine, I will.”

That was that. Tomorrow Hermione would be in front of expectant first years. She gulped. Perhaps she had bitten off more than she could chew.

After a sleepless night, Hermione stood eagerly in front of a room full of wide-eyed first years. Their chatter ceased as Snape rose to his feet.

“Today you will be taught by Miss Granger. I will leave you in her _capable_ hands.” She was certain she saw him smirk as he slipped out of the room.

Once out of sight the volume of chatter began to rise again.

“Now, class, today I will be teaching you to make a simple hair growth potion. Its effects are temporary, so don’t worry. You will need the ingredients on your benches, and you will work in pairs.”

A hand shot up, an overly keen Gryffindor girl.

“Miss, Miss, don’t we need finely ground spider extract to make that potion?”

“She’s right, she’s right,” chirped another.

“Yes, yes, she is, well done Mallory, five points to Gryffindor. Well spotted. You’ve passed the first test.”

“Are you even a teacher?” came another voice.

“Yes,” sneered a fair-haired Slytherin girl, “I’m certain my parents expect us to be taught by _real_ teachers, who know what they are doing.”

Draco came to mind.

“Of course, I know what I’m doing.”

Hermione was losing her cool. “Settle down,” she shouted. The class took little notice, the volume rose. “Quiet,” she bellowed.

“Where’s Professor Snape?” the sneering girl enquired with a smug look on her face.

“You’re stuck with me. Now get on with your work!”

She was flapping now, even the one or two more eager children had lost interest and had been consumed by the silliness of the others. The room descended into chaos.

“Stop it at once, do as I say, or I’ll…I’ll take a hundred points from all of your houses.”

The class booed and jeered.

“It’s not our fault you don’t know what you are doing,” protested Mallory Jones.

The Slytherins in the room began to chant, “we want Snape, we want Snape.” Bertie Bowe-Bullingdon stood on the desk, stamping his foot and leading the charge, conducting the rowdy choir with his wand. They were quickly joined by the others, until the whole room projected its tuneless song at Hermione in unison. She was going to scream, or cry, run away, or all of those things at once. She was powerless and lost, utterly defeated by a room full of eleven-year-old children.

“Enough!” boomed a familiar voice from the doorway.

Snape had appeared from nowhere. The room fell silent, Bertie slipped down from his platform and slid into his seat. Snape scowled.

“Detention, all of you, one hour, this evening.”

“But, Sir I…” Mallory Jones was cut off with a look.

“Shall I make it two, Miss Jones?”

The rest of the room made a muffled groan.

It was last lesson of the day and Snape held the class back, silently copying out lists of ingredients. Hermione watched. All heads were down, there were no visible signs of dissent. The hour was up.

“Apologise to Miss Granger.”

“Sorry, Miss Granger,” they said in chorus.

The fair-haired Slytherin’s mouth didn’t move. Snape noticed it immediately.

“Miss Malfoy,” he said positioned in front of her desk, glowering down at her. “I’m not sure I heard you clearly.”

The girl huffed.

“We are all waiting and will continue to do so until you are ready.”

“Sorry,” she muttered, compliant but displeased.

No wonder she had thought of Draco, she must be a cousin.

“You are dismissed.”

Chairs scraped and they clattered out of the room, muttering as they went, leaving Hermione alone with Snape.

“I’m sorry, that was terrible, they just wouldn’t listen.”

She was sheepish and embarrassed, her cheeks flushed with shame.

“No, they didn’t.”

“I tried; I don’t know what I did wrong.”

She was unaccustomed to failure. Hermione took the complete disaster badly.

“It’s very simple. You didn’t believe they would pay attention to you, they sensed it and didn’t. They met your very expectation of them.” It wasn’t a sympathetic response, but at least it was honest and constructive.

“How do you do that? I can’t learn that. You just…you just give it off. I don’t have that. I could say the same things as you and it wouldn’t make a blind bit of difference.”

“Preparation and belief. There is no secret to it. Tomorrow you will instruct them how to make a voice altering potion. Frivolous nonsense, but it will instil the importance of maintaining an exact temperature.”

“Them, the same class? But they think I’m a joke.”

She could imagine nothing worse than being faced with the same class who had humiliated her only a day earlier. The Malfoy girl’s sneering face returned to her mind in all its snooty glory.

“Giving up already? How disappointing.”

“No, I’m not. I just think they aren’t going to listen.”

“Therein lies your problem. Believe that they are and prepare. Practice. Make it now and it explain it to me as you would to them tomorrow.”

Snape observed her. He made her nervous but had unexpectedly given up his time to help her and she accepted it. He watched her, thin lips pressed firmly together, eyes narrow, every movement under scrutiny. Hermione found her hand shaking, unsettled by his undivided attention. He looked at her expectantly.

“So, first…first you add half a cup of ragweed to your…to your mixture and”

“Confidence and projection, lest you wish to see today’s scene repeated. You know. They do not. They must listen as you impart your superior knowledge.”

She fought a smug grin. She had always enjoyed being told she was clever, that was as direct a compliment as Snape had ever given her.

“Now stir it anti-clockwise,”

“Question,” he snapped.

“What will happen to the mixture if you don’t?”

“Good,” he nodded.

Hermione began to relax and flow, adding anecdotes and additional details. Suddenly she was in her element.

“And…finished. Now, we should test it,” she announced triumphantly.

“I suggest you select a… less favourable child as your test subject.”

“No, I’ll do it.”

Snape frowned and narrowed his eyes.

“And appear a fool?”

“No, to have fun with them.”

“On your head be it.”

Hermione shrugged and took a sip.

“It will make your voice…”

Nothing happened. She sipped again.

“I don’t understand. I’m sure I mixed it correctly.”

“Give it here,” he said, snatching the spoon and tasting it.

He sighed, pushing a long, disgruntled breath out through his nose.

“Miss Granger, you neglected to add fire powder.”

Hermione reached for the powder. Snape snatched her wrist.

“It’s too late to repair it now.”

Hermione grimaced and berated herself. Just when she had thought she had it cracked. It was a simple potion. She should be able to make it in her sleep.

“What did I make?”

“Tongue loosener.”

“God I’d enjoy a loose tongue. It’s been a while and Ron wasn’t exactly any good at it.”

Hermione’s hand shot to cover her mouth.

Snape raised an eyebrow.

“Is that so?”

“I can’t help myself. I couldn’t stop myself. It just came out.”

Embarrassment once more burnt at her cheeks. It was true, there wasn’t a thing she could do to prevent the words coming out, in front of him, of all people.

“Tongue loosener, Miss Granger. You have consumed the potion.”

“I’m still wondering if your tongue is loose, you can show me if you like.”

Snape responded before the consequences of what she had just said could sink in.

“I would like nothing more. I can’t say it has never crossed my mind.”

“Oh my God! You drank it too.”

Hermione giggled nervously, unable to process the conversation she was having with her former potions master. 

“I did.”

“And did you just say you had thought about licking my…”

Two hands now covered her mouth. Though mortified, the thought made her ache and a pulse thumped within her. It excited her. The image it conjured was vivid and it made her want it. Her gaze fell on his tongue as he spoke and her mouth dried. Hermione’s tongue nervously darted over her lips.

“Yes. I believe I did. It would be inappropriate for me to act on these urges, of course.”

“Of course, but I want you too. Once in fourth year I thought about you bending me over…”

“Stop. Please say no more.”

“Why?”

“I may be forced to make good on my suggestions.”

Hermione swallowed. Her giddy laughter subsided, her eyes grew glassy and wide. She licked her lips again, this time slowly and consciously. The ache deepened inside her.

“Is it turning you on? Is it? Is it making you hard?”

“Yes,” he snapped sharply.

She didn’t care now. She wanted him and knew he felt the same. Long-forgotten fantasies flooded her mind and her underwear.

“I like that. I like that a lot. I want you to know I like it. It’s making me wet. My knickers are damp and sticky now. Do you want me to take them off?”

He gritted his teeth, trying to fight it. He could not.

“Yes.”

Hermione looked at him, part of her still in shock that he felt that way or could acknowledge it, the rest wild with lust. 

“But you don’t even like me. You’re awful to me.”

“It may have escaped your notice, but I am _awful_ to everyone.”

“So, you do like me? Like that. You like me like that.”

“Yes.”

Wickedness took over. Her intention was to provoke him. 

“What do you like?”

“Your mouth. It is barely ever closed. I watch it constantly.”

“And?”

“I imagine silencing it.”

“How?”

“With…my…cock.”

Her pussy twitched with need. Hermione hooked her fingers into the waist band and wriggled her knickers down. She stepped out of them, kicking them away. He watched intently, motionless as if frozen to the spot and hypnotized. She hitched her skirt up to her waist and chewed at her lower lip.

“Do you want this? Do you want to touch?”

He tried to turn away and stop himself. He couldn’t lie to her or hold it in.

“Yes.”

“Then do it. I want you to. I’ve wanted you to for a long time. I’ve imagined it. I’ve thought about it. I’ve touched.”

“Please. I shouldn’t. I mustn’t.”

“You must. I need it.”

Hermione stepped towards him and took his hand, guiding it towards her centre. Snape’s arm stiffened in resistance; he couldn’t look her in the eye.

“Miss Granger, I should not.”

“Hermione.”

He caught her eye briefly but looked away again.

“Look at me and say it.”

She watched him fight his own desire; she watched him cave in. Finally, his eyes met hers.

“Hermione,” he whispered.

“Kiss me. I know you want to.”

“You are testing me.”

“I know. I think I like it. Do you want to?”

“You know I do.”

“Then do it.”

She raised herself up on her tiptoes and brushed her lips over his. He tried to hold on, but they softened. Severus weakened and pushed his lips gently against hers. She teased with her tongue, offering barely a flicker. He remained still and she did it again, this time fuller, inviting him to do the same. Still holding his hand, she guided it between her legs. This time he allowed it, his fingertips brushing over her dampened sex. Hermione whimpered into his mouth.

Snape broke.

He kissed her hungrily, his tongue probing into the warmth of her open mouth. She responded with equal greed. His fingers delved into her, parting her soft folds, slick with the liquid heat that had gathered there.

Snape broke the kiss, hissing at the contact.

“I have thought about this. Are you certain? I know you cannot lie to me or conceal your feelings?”

His eyes were locked onto hers, dark and piercing into her very soul. He searched them for an answer. Hers twinkled back at him, glossy and wide.

“I want this. I am sure. Please.”

She gripped his hand tighter, pressing him into her. A finger slid within her. Hermione moaned against his mouth. His tongue worked slowly in and out of her mouth in the same back and forth rhythm as his finger. Her arm coiled around his neck, clinging on, urging him to plunge deeper inside her until it was buried to the knuckle. She bucked against him, silently pleading for more. Snape pulled out of her completely, only to thrust two fingers into her sharply. Hermione could have sobbed in need as she gushed and coated his fingers in her sticky juices. He pumped his fingers into her, and she ground her hips. Still he tormented her mouth.

His thumb brushed over her clit, plump with need and tender to the touch. Her body jerked in response.

“Yes, there, yes,” she murmured, the words bleeding into one another as she lost herself in the feel of him.

He pressed there again, looking down at her through half-closed eyes. Hermione noticed the rough feel of the pads of his fingers and revelled in it. Still he worked in and out of her tight opening.

She pushed his hand away, suddenly. His eyes shot open, braced for regret and expecting rejection. Instead she smirked at him and gripped his wrist, drawing his hand up into the narrow space between them.

“What now?” he rasped.

“Taste them.”

Slowly, he took his own fingers deeply into his mouth then drew them out gradually, his eyes still trained on hers, never breaking contact, drawing sharp breaths through his nose. It was everything, an erotic torment as he sucked her from his own fingers.

“Delicious,” he said as he flicked his tongue over the very tips.

Hermione was open mouthed, she ached and throbbed in need, hollow and missing the feel of him inside her. 

“More, please,” she urged and pushed down on his shoulder.

“Please,” she wailed again.

Snape unhurriedly sunk downwards to his knees, spreading her open with his fingers and running his tongue over the length of her dripping slit.

Hermione whined as he found her clit again, lapping and flicking with the tip of his tongue. He drew wide circles, then narrowed them, teasing and working it. She hooked her leg over his shoulder, opening herself completely to him, clinging on to steady herself. He kept on, relentlessly slaking his thirst between her thighs, suckling and nipping at the now hard bud of flesh, extracting cries and whimpers. Two fingers worked their way back into her, twisting and stretching within her.

“You will come.”

“Yes, yes, don’t stop. Don’t you dare.”

He pulled away. A wicked smile curled in the corner of his mouth.

“Please, don’t, please.”

He dipped his head again, fingers thrusting deep into her, his tongue at her clit. It was coiling and knotting within her, urgent, desperate need, building and mounting and growing until it burst. Hermione was coming; she was coming for Severus Snape’s fingers and tongue, bucking wildly against him. She cried out hoarsely and shuddered against his mouth.

He rose to his feet.

“I want, I want to…”

“I know.”

Severus lifted her gently up onto the desk. She perched on the edge, legs apart, watching as his hard cock sprang free. He stood exposed, but still fully dressed. Lust burned in his eyes as she reached out, taking a firm grip and stroking up and down the length of him. He made a deep, guttural sound.

“What would you have me do now?” he asked, his jaw tight and clenched as she tugged at his hard cock.

“I want you in me, now, I need it. Do it.”

Snape did not wait or need to be asked twice. He positioned himself between her legs and pushed into her, a little at first, savouring the tightness and constriction around the sensitive head of his cock.

Hermione whined for more. He responded with a powerful deep thrust, filling her completely. She was virtually crying for it, adoring the feeling of stretched fullness. He remained still for a moment, holding her waist, her face buried into his chest. Severus began to move, at first a gentle rock of his hips, then pushing in deeper, every inch of him concealed within her. He would slide out and push back in making her sigh. This time he pulled back almost completely. Hermione mewled and whined for him, unable to stand the thought of losing him altogether. He made her wait then drove into her wetness again. This time she cried out.

“Shh or the whole school will hear you.”

She put a hand over her mouth to silence herself as he drove in and out of her, deep and hard. She felt it building again within her, the dull, throbbing ache growing sharper, tingling sensations spiralling out from her core, heightened and spiking as the tip of his cock found that soft, fleshy spot within her that forced her to bite down on the back of her hand to stifle her moans. It was a hard and bruising fuck. Hermione never wanted it to end.

She pushed back, sliding across the surface of the desk. A splinter snagged and tore at the soft skin on the back of her thigh. Hermione didn’t stop, it only gave a new sensation and pushed her on. Wrapping her legs around him, she held him there, tight and deep, the shallower strokes rubbing against her clit. It built rapidly now, as she panted against his shoulder.

“Come, witch, come.”

Snape’s voice rumbled in his chest, against her ear. His hips rocked again and his thumb brushing against her clit pushed her over the edge. She came, hard and intensely, her body stiffening against his, nails digging into his back, prevented from scratching and clawing by the fabric of his cloak. He wasn’t far behind her. He came into her, crying her name. She felt it, hot liquid spilling inside her.

They were still until the thudding of their hearts subsided. He tenderly kissed her forehead and left her, open but empty, soaked in him and her.

“Are you alright, Miss Granger?”

“Yes…I…erm,” she covered herself and retrieved her underwear from the floor.

“The effects of the potion have worn off.”

“I think so.”

Snape turned away with a half-sigh.

“I loved it.”

“Perhaps some of the assertiveness you demonstrated there may prove useful tomorrow. Please be certain to get the mixture correct. A room full of unfiltered first years is a deeply undesirable situation.”

She smirked.

Something slowly dawned on her. Snape had watched her like a hawk as she prepared the potion.

“You knew, didn’t you?”

“Knew what?”

“The potion was wrong, what it would do. Why didn’t you stop me? You let me taste it. You tasted it.”

“Hmm we sometimes learn most about ourselves from our mistakes.”

Her brow furrowed with thought. Finally, she smiled.

“I think it’s my favourite potion now.”

“Perhaps you should produce it again sometime.”

“Perhaps I should.”

She lingered. Snape sat down at his desk and returned to his marking.

“That will be all, Miss Granger.”

She opened her mouth to speak and thought better of it.

“I will see you tomorrow. Perhaps after the school day ends, we may continue your training.”

Hermione smiled and left without another word. 

**Author's Note:**

> Phew! Hope you are all hot and bothered after that.  
Please leave a review if you can, it is appreciated and keeps me typing.  
If you liked this and haven’t read it, you may enjoy Results Day, my other SS/HG naughtiness!  
Let me know what you thought of it! x


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